


Trophy

by TururaJ



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Calm OOC, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Omega Verse, POV First Person, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TururaJ/pseuds/TururaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this brutal war take no prisoners - they say. Here, there is only place for death... and trophies. Like mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Трофей](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/210823) by TururaJ. 



> I think I'm just too much in love with post-war themes. Why an omegaverse? Seriously I have already written three of the shit. I just wanted the boys to have a family, that's my only excuse. I won't promise you a very fast update but the story is finished, so I'll get to translating it up to the end someday. I'm putting an OOC tag for Calm here, sorry, Calm, I know you are a good guy.  
> Have you checked the tags? Are you sure? Please, go on then.

Long time ago Yuki used to say that in any situation you have to be yourself. To remember that you’re an alpha and to act like any decent alpha would. To protect, to support, to be someone's aid and hope. And I tried, every day tried to fit into this strange society that breathed amidst the chaos of incomprehensible acts, ruled by their emotions, as if wishing to deny the very existence of logic.

I was a good brother. I looked after the house, knew how to cook, won first places in academic competitions. Yuki was yawning in the mornings and puffing her cheeks when instead of her favorite omelet she’d receive ordinary scrambled eggs at breakfast. My sister was a person prone to idle laziness, sometimes absent-minded, and sometimes melancholy when she thought that I wouldn’t notice. However, her cheerfulness and optimism could be included in her profile as one of her most positive characteristics.

We’ve lost our parents early. They were unlucky enough to happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. A simple terrorist act which in those years were occurring with high frequency. A huge shopping complex collapsed like a house of cards as soon as the bombings sounded. After a few days we were sent to an orphanage due to the absence of close relatives. Yuki was scary to look at.

That was not the time which is nice to remember. Reckless children and their senseless cruel deeds forced me to protect myself and to protect my sister, but I was too young yet to use fists, so I had to operate with mental resources, pretty limited because of my age. I didn’t consider my defense to be aggressive, but Yuki thought otherwise. It was back then that my sister birthed a habit of teaching me life. Of telling me how to be an alpha. Many alphas would’ve just laughed at these speeches coming from the lips of a beta, but I trusted my sister - she was the only person who wasn’t indifferent to my existence.

And then the war took Yuki away from me.

I do not know if she had died quickly. Under the deafening howl of the notification systems one of the missiles straddled the downtown where my sister was going to be on that day. I’ve never found her among the survivors, no matter for how long I’ve been searching. Yet I didn't burst into useless tears like a lot of scared people around me. I merely stepped forward when the military visited the temporary shelter in search of volunteers.

I was seventeen when I first held a gun in my hands. I was eighteen when I killed my first victim. I was nineteen when I started leading my own unit. But I didn't feel anything back then. No pain, no fear, no anger, no foretaste of revenge. Only emptiness and cold calculation. Now I'm twenty-five, the war is almost over, but since those days, oddly enough, nothing has changed. 

“You have two hours. The choice is yours: elimination or getting trophies. Bear in mind that this is the last settlement under our area, so we’ll be returning to the base immediately and after that... directly home. And do not dare linger if you don’t wish to be caught by the ‘gulls’!” General Hakkinen’s face glows with kindness as if he hasn’t just given permission to the troops to wreak havoc in the enemy settlement, where, in fact, only omegas, children and frightened women-betas are left. All those who were able to offer real resistance had been eliminated long ago.

A gloomy autumn sky is quietly hovering over the village. I nod to the excitedly whispering subordinates and, after checking that my pistol, resting in the holster on the belt, is loaded, slowly pace down the trampled path between the houses which seem to huddle to each other. I’m not a supporter of violence and cruelty, I’m used to kill armed opponents, but I’m an alpha, and alphas have their own specific needs that sometimes are too hard to hold back. I never counted how many times I’ve used the services of available whores, or how many times I allowed myself to abuse those omegas and betas, whose early deaths were guaranteed by the ‘gulls’ in any case. Not that many. It's not something Yuki could’ve accepted. But such is the nature of alphas, and I find it quite logical that we, as the winners, are allowed some liberties. 

I kick open the locked front door of one of the last houses in the row. My attention is caught by the bright yellow curtains on the windows - long ago Yuki planned to hang the similar ones in the kitchen. The floorboards are creaking violently under my feet. My mind grabs a spacious, comfortable living room, a sofa with a soft plaid, toys scattered near the turned off television set. I step forward, noting the stairs leading above and one more closed door which can lead either to the bathroom or kitchen.

The silence is so palpable that I’m saved only by the honed over the years of war reflexes. My hands put up a block, and the blade of an ordinary kitchen-knife, shimmering in the dimness, freezes in sheer millimeters from my face. I retaliate with a sharp kick to the other’s knee, and the enemy’s hold on the knife predictably becomes weak. A couple of strong punches to the stomach, and omega falls to the floor trying to stop the rising cough.

Thin body, tousled blonde strands of hair, pale face twisted with pain and rage - unusual turquoise eyes look up at me with blazing hatred. I don't care. I sniff the smell of the omega. Not a virgin, though I can’t feel the settled smell of another alpha. Quite possibly, he hadn’t had a partner for a long time. However, the key point is that he is not a virgin. He will do.

He resists and kicks, even tries to bite me when I tie his hands behind his back, but doesn’t beg for mercy, despite obviously understanding what I'm going to do to him. That's good. Many of the enemies on the battlefield were behaving more shamefully, cried like little babies. In such cases I preferred to pull the trigger instantly. I'm sure even my Yuki would never have disgraced herself like that.

I unbuckle my belt, pushing omega’s face into the floor. I feel how tense his body is beneath me, but he doesn’t even snap when I lower his pants, just shrugs his shoulders in disgust. I have to use the saliva. Unfortunately, omega is not in heat and isn’t aroused. My fingers slide between his buttocks reluctantly. Omega is predictably tight and narrow, but I'm spreading his ass and pushing myself forward. He can't hold back a painful groan, bites his lip until there is blood and hisses. It doesn't bother me.

My hips quickly find the desired pace. Pleasant sensations roll down my back, a hot wave floods the starved body. I press omega into the floor, lean over his thin frame, taking what belongs to me by my right of victor. I guess Yuki would have called me a beast. But she's not here. My sister will never be anywhere.

I look at the trembling shoulder blades peeking out from under the crumpled wide collar of his blue tee-shirt, at the hurting wrists tied by the rope I purposefully equipped myself with before coming here, at the part of his cheek seen from under the curtain of his hair - his face is clearly burning with the color of humiliation and shame. I'm so close to release, to that cherished brief moment when my head will become as lightweight and empty as it never is, but I have to stop myself because I can hear the approaching steps.

“Ooops, sorry, Cap, didn't know the house was already occupied!” Calm is as arrogant as ever, but he is a good enough technician to not pay attention to some of the flaws in his behavior. Omega beneath me turns to stone and clamps so hard that I have to slip out of his body - I suppose, the likelihood of two alphas using him simultaneously is terrifying him. However, I'm not going to share. I think Calm realizes that from my intent look.

The sudden sound of running feet from the stairs leading to the second floor makes the omega jerk up his head. Calm whistles. And I'm listening to the first drops of rain starting to pitter-patter down the roof of the house wherein we are the uninvited guests. In the middle of the stairs, getting tangled in the top of the adult pajamas, which is put over him instead of a proper children’s wear, desperately rubbing his sleepy eyes, stands a little omega, about five years old. A child. I should have expected that back when I noticed the toys.

“Daddy?”

“Ray, get back upstairs right now and lock the door!” fear seems to be slipping into the serious notes of omega’s voice, but the child is trained enough and doesn’t argue. I'm not interested in children anyway, I just want to get the much needed release and leave the house. However, I can't say the same about Calm. Even I don’t want to look at the anticipating smile on his face as he climbs up the stairs.

“Please, no!” omega whispers with trembling lips and catches me in the trap of the maddeningly frightened glance, and I feel that I can't look away now. Because Yuki also had this selflessness inside her, this willingness to do everything for my sake. “Please, I’ll do anything. Don’t touch the child. Please.”

“Don’t you understand that it’s doesn’t matter?” I answer indifferently. “The ‘gulls’ will be sprayed over the settlement and the surrounding area in less than an hour and a half. They are one of the latest developments of the chemical weapons. The ‘gulls’ are totally harmless to the environment and animals, but disastrous for humanity. You don’t have any chances of survival, you won’t even have enough time to escape to a safe distance.”

"You, bastard alphas! Is it not enough that I am willing to dedicate my last few hours to be your obedient slut? You wish to defile with your filthy hands a little child? You bloody motherfuckers!” omega manages to roll over under me so fast that I’m completely missing the desperate kick into my crotch. I have quite a high pain threshold, but even I need a few seconds to recover.

Stumbling because of the lowered pants, hardly keeping his balance because of the bound hands and weakened knees, omega rushes up the stairs, where Calm, whistling something, fumbles with the unyielding door handle. Omega is already on the third step when I catch up to him and easily force him back down by roughly gripping his hair and slamming his head against the wooden railing.

Behind the windows it is raining like sin. Clenching his teeth, omega cries trying to suppress the sobs tearing him. His shoulders are shaking under my grip so much that I give up. My arousal is hopelessly lost.

“Calm” I say, sitting down on the nearest step. “They are my booties. Go away.”

“Eh? But, Cap!”

“Go away,” I repeat, and Calm retreats in displeasure. I have saved his life several times over the years, so the pride of an alpha won’t allow him to disobey, although in just a few days we will cease to be a commander and a subordinate and become ordinary civilians. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Calm leaves the house.

When the front door slams shut, omega wipes his wet cheeks with his shoulders, gets up to his knees and bows his head to where my still unbuttoned pants are. His mouth is wet and warm, he is very careful, clearly inexperienced, trying not to hurt me with his teeth, but I can only feel the echoes of pain.

“It’s useless, stop it,” I say, staring at the ceiling. “Your kick was good.” 

Averting his eyes, he settles on the bottom step and breathes heavily. There is blood oozing from the scratch on his temple. Crumpled tee-shirt barely covers his thin thighs, which soon will bear the bruises of my fingerprints. My smell, the smell of an alpha, despite the unfinished sexual intercourse, has already managed to stick to his skin.

“Do you want to live?” for some unknown reason the question leaves my lips despite the answer seeming too obvious.

“I want my child to survive.” There is no doubt, no fear in his eyes, only the willingness to pay the price if I name it. And I’m suddenly thinking about what I'm going to do when I appear on the doorstep of my empty apartment which is going to be given to me for the outstanding services during the war? Listening to the silence? Remembering how to cook an omelet, unneeded by anyone? Buying expensive whores in order to satisfy the hunger of my body? Watching dreams about Yuki, after which I’m feeling nauseous in the mornings?

“Even if you’ll have to spend a lifetime with me?” What I'm doing is highly illogical. I wonder why I can't stop myself.

“Even... if so.” Too bitter parody of a smile creeps on omega’s lips, but I'm too tired to think about the reason for its appearance. We are both tired. Me... and my trophy.

I put my hand to his open neck and force him to lean his head to one side. I can feel how painfully the fangs are protruding in my mouth. Omega can't hold back the scream when I bite into his neck and put a proprietary mark - the only thing which can allow him to leave this death zone alive. I hold the omega’s body until it stops convulsing, then let go and tell him to bring the child.

Same blonde hair, same bright eyes - the boy is hiding behind his father’s leg, clutching it with his little palms and looking in fear at me from there. Little omega, an exact copy of his parent, who barely stands on his feet now, but even despite the fatigue tries to smile encouragingly to the child and pushes him forward.

“It’s going to hurt” I tell to the omega, lowering the edge of the pajamas’ top. By some quirk of fate there is a flock of the identical seagulls on the cloth. “Bear with it.”

The boy hesitantly nods, steps forward, but, quite predictably, cannot withstand the pain and loses consciousness when I put a mark on his shoulder, accepting him as my own child. Omega catches his little body in his arms, embraces him so lovingly and affectionately that something strange and unfamiliar suddenly tugs on the inside of my chest. Somewhere, where a heart should be. 

“Pack up enough things for a few days. You have fifteen minutes,” I warn him. There is not much time left until the return to the base, and Hakkinen is widely known for his dislike of waiting.

After putting his son on the sofa, omega disappears upstairs. I can hear the clinking of things and the rustling of clothing. The rain outside is intensifying. Maybe the release of ‘gulls’ will be re-scheduled to a later time, but the fate of this settlement, just as of all the enemy settlements, had long been decided. In this brutal war take no prisoners - they say. Here, there is only place for death... and trophies.

Like mine.


	2. Chapter 2

There are five rooms, a spacious kitchen, a wide hall and a bathroom, which looks more like a pool, in my new apartment. At night silence is reigning behind the windows. The first snow slowly falls atop of the trees that surround the house from all sides. I finish furnishing my own bedroom and study, estimate the amount of allowable expenses for the next month, but from time to time stay motionless, listening to the quiet sounds behind the closed door into the hall. 

The few neighbors are very quiet: in the afternoon an old couple of two betas from downstairs likes to settle on a bench in the nearest park. They always quietly discuss something but their conversations are devoid of laughter. The taciturn omega living upstairs always gets up early and disappears until late evening. One day after another restless sleep I go out on the balcony seeking out the fresh air to regain clarity of thoughts and watch as he suddenly slumps to the ground letting go of the gray folders. Omega’s shoulders are shaking violently and for some time he just keeps sobbing over the fallen documents, but then pulls himself together, collects the papers and disappears inside his car. Later, out of feeble interest I find out that his husband has been officially listed missing in action during the war.

My cohabitants are probably even quieter than the neighbors. Ray is too quiet for a child of his age, and Slaine prefers to avoid me most of the time. However, the house is impeccably clean, and the prepared meal is always waiting for me on the stove when I get home from work. The work that is going to help me pass the time in the near future is a simple position in the department of the military defense development. General Hakkinen was very kind to offer my candidature, and I saw no reason to refuse, although the salary I saved up during the war would have been enough for several years of idleness. Also this arrangement eased some of my tension - not touching a gun or a rifle, not rising from the bunk at early dawn felt too unusual.

I buy a car simply because I can and because it’s easier to drive to the military base where the research complex is situated. In the morning I leave money to Slaine on a stand in the hall, and pick up the change from it in the evening. If I have to inform him about something I can always find him in the bedroom quietly playing with Ray - I know that he takes the child for a walk strictly in my absence, although I do not forbid him to leave the apartment in the evenings. But since we’ve moved here, Slaine only once comes to see me out of his own will.

Omega doesn't look me in the eyes, but the way he unconsciously digs his nails into the pale skin of his elbow, while he tries to formulate the question, gives him away. Ah, yes, this is indeed the topic that should worry him. I come to the conclusion that right at the moment I don't care. After all, alphas’ periods of rutting are rarer than omegas’ periods of heat.

“Get yourself suppressants. If I happen to be in a critical need, I’ll warn you beforehand”, I don't know what I feel when the tension more or less leaves the figure standing in front of me, and Slaine nods in relief. Does he think that I'm going to attack him in my own home like a horny animal, especially in the presence of a child? Well, however, what else is he supposed to think after I broke into his house and took him by force?

The days are incredibly long and monotonous. Work successfully distracts me from thoughts and memories, but at nights I don’t always manage to force my body to sleep. Sometimes I just listen to how the barely audible steps of bare feet disturb the silence of the hall. Slaine often tries to slip into the kitchen unnoticed, but he can’t mask the quiet clinking of glass and carafe while he pours himself water. And I realize that I have trained my hearing too well. And that I’m not the only one troubled by the nightmares.

One day I return home too early. Someone from the technical staff, conducting the planned work, manages to cut the power to half of the complex, and I have no choice but to turn off the laptop and steer the car back on the almost deserted highway. I open the door to the hall and freeze in the doorway, looking at the way Ray happily and noisily is playing with his father.

Slaine doesn’t notice me at once, but all the color drains from his face when he does. Distracted for a second from his child, who is too excited by the game, he doesn’t see how Ray brushes his shoulder against the shaky table. There is a new cup wrapped up in a colorful paper standing on its edge. Long ago Yuki had a similar one. She loved to climb cross-legged into the armchair during the weekends, thoughtfully holding this delicate, almost porcelain, cup in her hands. I bought it yesterday, accidentally saw it in a shop window while waiting for the traffic signal to turn green. But unfortunately forgot to remove it from the table, too busy with the papers I fetched from work. 

The child's laughter abruptly subsides after the sound of the smashed glass. I should’ve put carpets in the hall, I absent-mindedly think. Slaine’s lips are trembling, though barely noticeably, when our eyes meet. He pulls Ray so close as if I'm going to hurt the defenseless creature. I'm capable of it - that is true. But the war is over, and I see no reason to punish the child for the loss of a simple cup, even if it was so... I pass the nondescript fragments and go straight into my own bedroom. Slaine cowers against the wall, but I don't say a word to him.

“Dad?” The child’s voice cuts the stony silence, and it’s full of confusion. He is still too young to fully realize what is happening, but he is also able to feel the invisible, heavy, oppressive atmosphere that weighs over our heads. The three of us are its undeniable hostages, but I still don't understand why I am considering myself to be a part of it. After all, it was my choice and my whim, and I am free to leave the apartment whenever I want.

“It’s all right, baby. It’s all right, let's go back to the room” Slaine’s voice is affectionate, but I can also hear the notes of determination in it, and I feel - today he is going to come to me. To beg for forgiveness he needs despite the obvious hate. And I’m not going to push him away, because I don’t see any reason to refuse sex, which is, in fact, essential for alphas because of some physiological processes in the body.

I pass the time by checking the colleagues’ reports, eat, take a shower and lie down, leaving the night light on. I do not leave an inch of clothing on my body. Why should I if I have to remove it later anyway? The clock is already showing past midnight, when a quick knock at the door makes me raise my head from the pillow.

“Come in.” Slaine’s body is covered by the plain bathrobe, the belt tightly folded. I repeatedly keep offering him money in order to properly replenish his wardrobe, but each time he stubbornly refuses and accepts only the sum enough to feed and dress his child. It's already winter, and omega is still walking out on the streets in his autumn jacket, and I do not particularly care to continue pressing him further about things I’m not interested in.

“I...”

“Undress,” I have no desire to listen to the inconsistent flow of words. I know Slaine’s willpower is strong enough to endure the unpleasant sex. I know I'm not his first alpha, because I can still remember his scent before I put a mark on his neck, moreover, he has a child. And he was the one to come to me this time. “Take off the tee-shirt too. I want you to do everything by yourself.”

“W-what?” the robe falls to his feet, looking like an old rag. Fingers nervously pull the edge of the blue tee-shirt down so that it covers the thin thighs - by the way, isn’t it the same tee-shirt he wore the day of our meeting? - I can also smell the cheap pharmaceutical lube on him. Yes, he has obviously prepared himself, and now shies away, standing in front of me almost naked and pressing his lips into a thin line, like an inexperienced virgin on his first night.

I throw back the blanket, sit up on the bed and fish out a package of condoms from the drawer. When I had sex with the omega back at his house, I had no reason to be concerned about pregnancy, because the ‘gulls’ would have spared me from having to think about the possibility of conceiving offsprings. Although in most cases the impregnation is not possible out of the periods of heat anyway. But I prefer not to risk it. The mere idea that Slaine can carry my child is, to say the least, unpleasant. What will I do with the baby? Yuki had never told me about this side of life. She didn’t have the time to study it either.

I drop the condoms on the edge of the bed and give the omega a sign to approach. When I touch his tee-shirt, intending to pull it over his head, he stops me. His hands are very cold.

“Can... can you leave it?” I watch the blueness of the tee-shirt being consumed by the shadows of the dim lighted room and suddenly remember the shining pieces of my broken cup. I don't say anything, instead roughly pull the hindrance away, not paying attention to how Slaine immediately hides his eyes under the tousled hair.

The stripes of pale scars stretch into an ugly mesh down his chest and back - I didn't notice it back at his house, at first being too preoccupied by arousal, and then by the heavy fatigue. I saw it later, after we’ve moved into the apartment and bumped into each other in the bathroom. Back then we had yet to establish the unwritten schedule, which allows us to not have any chances of unnecessary meetings. In fact, I'm not really interested in the history of the scarring appearance, but I can't deny that from time to time the scars do involuntary raise some questions, the answers to which I'm not looking for.

Arousal comes easily. Nature cannot be fooled. The smell of an available omega and a few hand movements are enough to stir me up. Having placed the unresisting Slaine on my hips, I lean back on the pillows, shamelessly staring at the naked body. Although it's been three months, he's still too thin. Quite unlike his child, who, when I manage to see him, constantly puffs his cheeks, chewing on something. At times it seems like Slaine doesn’t eat at all, probably gives everything to the baby, although I do not limit them both with food and always leave enough money so that nobody in this apartment would starve.

Omega’s hands are shaking, when he tears the condom package and in a fit of anger, or maybe in a short dash of bravery, too quickly unrolls the condom over me. But when I get in between his buttocks - this time I slid inside quite easily - he is lost once again and doesn’t know where to put his hands. Touching me seems like an absolutely unacceptable option for him. Well, that's his problem.

“Move,” I order, and Slaine clumsily lifts his thighs, trying to set some semblance of rhythmic movements, and for some reason keeps hiding his face behind the clenched fists. I quickly get tired of it. The likelihood of omega doing all the work by himself so that I would be satisfied enough is miserable. I suppose it can be changed with time if I’d have the desire to train him, but right now I’m disinterested.

I push his face into the pillow and use his body for the sole purpose it exists until my head becomes blissfully empty. When consciousness returns I see the way Slaine’s fingers convulsively grip the edge of the crumpled sheets. I roll off him and get rid of the condom, trying to restore the heavy breathing. Slaine quickly leaves the bed on weak legs, reaches for his bathrobe and covers his trembling shoulders with it. He stumbles at the doorway, nearly falls down to the floor, and I decide to help him walk to the bathroom so he wouldn't accidently wake the child. I think that is not the outcome that would please him. Perhaps, children are stupid, but they are also able to smell scents, and right now the omega reeks of me so strong that he should take a shower if he doesn't want to confuse the child.

“I'm fine!” Slaine’s hoarse voice turns into an angry whisper the moment I climb out of bed. “I don’t need your help.”

Yes, he doesn’t. I know that. Back then, at his house, I treated him much rougher than today. And he had prepared himself in advance. I return to the bed and, when I hear the far door leading into the bathroom close, turn out the night light. Winter wind howls behind the window, persistently trying to break into the warm room with whirls of frosty snow. I expect that sleep will come easily, but in the end toss and turn for about an hour.

That night for the first time in a long period I dream about Yuki.

Amidst the city burning with flames, amidst the cacophony of wailing and moaning, amidst the piles of charred bodies she stands alone, a motionless figure looking intently at the sky. I look up, but find no stars, not even a small cloud. Nothing disturbs the sea of an absolute blackness.

The sky, which Yuki looks at, is empty. There is nothing there.


	3. Chapter 3

Winter holidays are approaching fast. The excited buzzing of colleagues’ talks and their constant discussions of how they are going to spend two weeks outside boring work continue almost non-stop. The first Christmas and New Year since the end of the war promise to be interesting for them. Their speeches seem like a noise of a power-generating unit under high voltage. It’s a good thing I’ve learned long ago how to focus on really important matters. Nothing disrupts the working process.

I look at the dates in the wall calendar and realize that even if I fetch all the reports and files from work, it still won’t be enough to occupy my days off. Maybe I should buy some magazines or books - a plasma TV set in the living room doesn’t interest me at all, especially since I can check the current news using a laptop. Ray is the only one who watches TV in my absence - the fact I happen to know thanks to the overheard conversation. Perfect silence envelopes the apartment in the evenings. Slaine is quick to clean up and bathe the child before my arrival.

I like that he doesn’t disturb me, but... What does this “but” signify I can’t understand. Everything is going as it should. Omegas are dressed, shoed, fed and are under my patronage. I’ve even submitted an application to the local administration for Ray to be registered as a citizen. He will attend school when he turns seven and will be able to grow up as a rightful citizen of the country, using my surname. For omega’s son, in whose veins flows the blood of the enemy, it's incredible luck.

Come to think of it, many soldiers have returned home with living trophies. I suppose the government had considered it to be a good move to help the military relieve the stress, accumulated over the long years of slaughter. But such toys, of course, cannot have any rights. The owners are free to treat them as they wish, even murder. It is prohibited to bring it to the public eye, but everything else is at the whim of the former soldiers-alphas and betas.

On the first evening before the holidays that start three days before Christmas I come home late, having spent a lot of time in the bookstore and desperately trying to find something that would help me get through the days off. Bright book covers hurt my eyes. Detectives, novels, adventures, colorful collections of fairy tales for children – all visible bookshelves are full of literature completely devoid of the slightest hints of the past war. The world dreams to forget everything and start anew.

People scurry between the shelves, choose calendars, greeting cards and ribbons, shiny packages and nice-looking souvenirs, pick up Christmas presents for friends and family. I have always considered gifts to be a waste of money, but then Yuki would pinch my cheek in indignation and point her finger deep into the cookbook, where the creamy and puffy cake would greet us. And if we didn’t have enough money to buy a similar cake, we always tried to cook it ourselves. Predictably, I was the one to clean the kitchen afterwards while Yuki was resting on a sofa and contentedly stroking her stuffed belly.

The calendar with a dragon lurking along the lake, over the surface of which the ornate dates are printed, is light in my hands, but in the end I return it back to the shelf and decide to simply buy candy. The child is unlikely to be in need of such a gift, and Slaine will probably start looking for the catch and then come to me at night to offer me something I do not yet need. Truth be told, sex was much nicer with the whores. They knew exactly how to move their hips, so as not to add extra work to me.

The apartment is dark, the ray of dim light is flowing from under the door of Slaine’s bedroom – Ray is staying with him even though I’ve offered to furnish a separate room for the child. I take off shoes, walk to the kitchen, find a suitable plate in the cupboard and pour the sweets in it. The brown wrappers with nuts painted on them obediently gather down at the bottom of the crystal plate into a low hill.

I leave candy in the middle of the table and although I still can’t escape the strong feeling that I'm doing something wrong, I head to my bedroom, out of the corners of my eyes noticing a couple of dirty dishes and pans lying in the sink. I consider it to be unusual, but since this is the first time Slaine allows himself to make such a mistake, I am inclined to not raise the issue for discussion. At least if the dishes are going to disappear in the morning.

I'm not setting the alarm clock. I have not yet decided what I am going to do for the next week and a half aside from some fetched work, but I can think about it in the morning, when this strange atmosphere of a long day won’t be looming over me. It feels like the whole world had so stupidly stuck in the pre-holiday fuss, and only I managed to keep a sober view of things, happening amidst the chaos.

And although I'm not setting the alarm, I wake up instantly when someone starts scratching at my door. It is still dark outside, though the clock says it’s already morning. The blizzard is raging again, frost ornaments are all over the windows, and only a dim silver light of a street lamp breaks through the gloom of winter. I pull on jeans that I’m used to wear on the rare weekends and a black sweater over a tee shirt, which I’m usually sleeping in.

Ray is standing behind the bedroom door, nervously fingering the edge of his night pajamas. The boy is shaking, I can see it despite the darkness of the hall. Fresh tears are rolling down the tear-stained cheeks. He is clearly afraid to look at me. I have no idea what happened to his real father and what Slaine told him about my appearance in their lives and our very abrupt moving, but Ray had definitely never exhibited any feelings of curiosity towards me. It can only mean that Slaine had a serious conversation with him at some point, and that the child is pretty much obedient.

“K-Kaizuka-san... Dad...” also, his speech is pretty good for his humble age of five years I think before becoming aware of Ray’s next words. “Dad doesn’t wake up!”

I’ve noticed long ago that Slaine always gets up early to prepare breakfast and to promptly disappear from my sight before I get up to work. That and the fact that he always cleans up after himself and the child, and contrary to that yesterday the unwashed dishes were left in the kitchen. I walk down the hall toward the opened door to the bedroom, the inside of which I’ve not seen since moving. The apartment had already been furnished with a necessary minimum when I received the keys and documents, and Slaine, after several flights and overnight stays among the crowd of soldiers who were closely scrutinizing him and his child, could hardly stand upright, so I decided to give him space and time to recover.

The room is illuminated by a floor lamp and is very warm, the curtains are tightly drawn. The carefully folded children clothes peek out from the shelves of the half-open closet. There is a writing stand with just a few precisely placed pencils and pens on the table. From out the open drawing album an ugly flower tries to reach for me - it looks a bit like a rose, but is painted in blue color. A pair of cheap children's books in a thin cover rests on top of a wooden chair hidden in the corner of the room. The inexpensive children's rug is spread near the bed, its green background is full of smiling violet snakes and purple bats. I can’t call it anything other than stupid.

Ray runs past me and hesitantly stops at the edge of the bed, grabbing Slaine’s hand in his little palms and burying his sniffling nose into it. I walk closer to the omega, detecting the unmistakable rasping breathing. Hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, the body under the blanket is racked by either strong shivers, or yet weak convulsion. Slaine doesn’t react in any way when I touch his face. But the fact that he is literally burning becomes clear immediately. I’m forced to search for the medicine box in the kitchen, which I heedfully prepared after moving in. The results on the thermometer scale do not delight me. At all.

I do have a phone number of the local doctor in my contact list, but it’s holiday time right now, and Slaine isn’t considered to be a full citizen of the country. If I want omega to be helped, I will have to say goodbye to a large amount of cash. I look at Ray’s frightened face, at how uselessly he whispers to his father to wake up, and press the call button. It's a shame that Slaine hadn’t sought help from me in a timely manner. I think the current situation could’ve been avoided if the disease had been subdued at the early stage. Did he not want to take extra money for the medicine? Or was he afraid that he’d have to pay for it with sex? It’s completely illogical and reckless act, when it comes to your own life.

The doctor promises to come in half of an hour. Judging by his sullen voice I understand that he is not very happy to accept the call, however, he doesn’t risk saying no to the former military officer. Ray stares at me with eyes full of tears. I tell him to wash his face and relocate himself to the kitchen, so that he wouldn’t get in the way when the doctor comes. The child obviously doesn’t want to leave Slaine, for a long moment wavers at his side, but it seems like the fatigue and worry soon overwhelm him, and he obediently follows me to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, where he climbs on a chair, folds his arms on his knees and completely wilts under my gaze.

When the sound of the doorbell rings over the hall I leave the little omega in a company of a tea cup which he hardly touches. The doctor turns out to be an elderly but sturdy-looking beta in a half frame glasses, his hair already gray at the temples. He stays haughtily silent while following me into the bedroom, but his face smooths out as soon as he enters the room. I observe his confident motions, while he examines the omega. As I expect, the intramuscular injection of antifebrile medicine cannot be avoided. The doctor makes an injection, takes out a pen and a piece of paper from his small bag and finally says:

“I'll prescribe antibiotics. The flu is spreading around the city, so I wouldn’t advise to neglect the ailment, as there can be complications, up to pneumonia. It’s a good thing that you’ve called me. The omega is fine. Right now the most crucial thing is to break the fever down to the acceptable. Make sure he takes the antibiotics and doesn’t overexert himself. The bed rest is important. If his condition worsens, do not hesitate to call me again. I have a couple of friends in a private hospital nearby, they accept any patients for a reasonable fee”. The beta makes a notable emphasis on the word “any”, looking at me over his shoulder.

I quietly take away the sheet with the doctor’s neat handwriting. The army made me used to dealing with confident people. I wouldn’t be surprised if the beta once served or was a military medic. His posture is too stately. At the exit I pick up my wallet from the table, intending to extract the amount of money we discussed on the phone, but the doctor suddenly stops me with a firm wave of his hand.

“Don’t. Unfortunately, lately I've rarely seen the decent treatment of omegas in circumstances similar to yours. You may think of my whim as of a Christmas gift. Happy holidays to you and your family, Kaizuka-san”.

The door closes behind the beta with a slight clap leaving me to stand in the silence. I absolutely don’t understand the reasons for such an illogical doctor’s act, but I'll think about it later. In the meantime I peek into Slaine’s room, noting that his breathing has evened out a little, and hide the sheet with the list of prescribed medicine in my pocket. If I’m not mistaken there was a round-the-clock pharmacy down the next street. I see no reason to postpone a visit there. However, when I enter the kitchen I find out that Ray had fallen asleep at the table. His cheek is red from lying on a hard surface; disheveled crown of bright hair almost touches the cup that has already cooled down.

I remember that when I was a child I used to fall asleep over the open books. Yuki was just a couple of years older, so she never had the physical strength to bring me to bed. My sister always had to wake me up by shaking my shoulders, complaining that I was too heavy. In contrast to the memories when I take the little omega in my arms, it seems like he is under weight. Probably sensing the proximity of another person in his sleep, Ray mistakes me for his father, because his disheveled mop of hair settles against my shoulder, and his little palm clings to my sweater.

I briefly ponder where to take him. It’s cold in the living room, but returning him to Slaine’s bedroom is questionable, though the probability of Ray already having caught the flu is high. I carry the child to my bed, cover him with a blanket and, putting on a trench coat, leave the apartment. Snow immediately tries to climb behind the scruff, fingers are freezing even under the protection of pockets, but the sky slowly brightens. Lights appear in the windows of the neighboring houses. With the course of time the area seems more and more alive, though many apartments are still empty and waiting for the owners.

In the pharmacy the sleepy omega behind counter yawns, it takes him too long to count the change. I'm not in a hurry to return home, so I stop near the entrance to the park and for some time keep watching how a burly alpha tries to explain something to his large wolf-dog. The dog looks at the owner devotedly and enthusiastically, angling its muzzle to the side. Obviously, the alpha is set out to teach his pet to chase a special ball, but instead of the toy the dog is much more interested in the owner who is foaming at the mouth. The behavior of both the alpha and his dog is so ridiculous that it keeps my attention for the next twenty minutes.

When I open the front door of the apartment, Slaine, barely standing on his feet, lunges at me in a fury, which many wounded soldiers would envy. His eyes are closing, legs are giving away, he almost can’t speak because of the wheezing, and his hands barely manage to grab the collar of my coat. But at the bottom of the bloodshot turquoise eyes burns the stubborn rage, mixed with the sudden panic.

“Where? Where is my baby?” omega wheezes out, pulling at my strands of hair in a feeble attempt to hurt me. “What’ve you done with him?”

I don’t see any reason to withhold the truth, so I quietly say: 

“Sleeping. In my bedroom.” And I can almost feel the lack of understanding radiating from his eyes. However, at the same time Slaine pulls back and staggers down the hall, stumbling and desperately holding on to the wall and other pieces of furniture on his way. I remain still and watch from afar as his face brightens when he finds confirmation of my words. Then he abruptly sags to the floor, and all his attempts to get up are doomed to failure. Apparently, the entire omega’s strength was spent after meeting me at the front door. I have no choice but to throw his arm over my shoulder and help him to get back to his bedroom. I can’t just leave him lying in the hall, can I? Moreover, the child can wake up at any moment and will probably be scared to see his father like this, which would only add the unnecessary problems.

After seating Slaine on the bed, I pull the chair from the corner of the room closer and leave the bag with the medicine lying on top of it. I also pointedly leave the doctor’s order there. Later I even bring Slaine a carafe full of water. After all the sooner omega recovers, the sooner we can return to the established rhythm of life. Ray wakes up only in the evening. Sitting in my study and poring over the work papers, I can hear how he runs along the hall like a little tornado. Ray is crying for a long time, but Slaine’s quiet whispering finally lulls him.

Holidays drag on, but I’m forced to cook for the three people and it helps to pass the time. Slaine obediently takes his pills and sleeps a lot. He looks away in shame when our eyes meet, especially when I'm helping Ray to bring him a tray of food. Most likely, the thought of what is going to happen after his recovery gnaws at him. I do not require anything from him yet, but a week and a half of another person’s care isn’t something that he can leave unpaid. That’s just the way he is.

These days Ray, partly free of the parent’s control, becomes more daring. He is brave enough to eat with me at the same table in the kitchen, to watch cartoons in the living room after dinner at top volume, and sometimes to even peek into my study without permission. I'm getting tired of looking up from the laptop when his curious face appears in the doorway. I can hear how Slaine, trying to hold back the coughs, berates him every evening, and sometimes when I am facing Ray near the bathroom before going to bed, the child’s cheeks are still puffed after the argument.

On the last day of the holidays I settle on a sofa in the living room and keep looking at my wristwatch, literally counting the hours and minutes before the time when I can go to bed, then get up early in the morning and go to work comes. My solitude is once again interrupted by Ray. Running into the living room, the boy excitedly puffs and stubbornly pulls Slaine after him. Omega’s face is full of anxiety and confusion.

“I-I’m sorry for bothering...” Slaine forces the vague words out of his mouth and lowers his hands onto Ray’s shoulders. Ray looks so proud, clutching something in his palms.

“Kaizuka-san!” suddenly loudly speaks the boy, his cheeks flushed, and stammering a bit, thrusts out his hands towards me. “This is for you. T-thank you for helping dad.”

Unable to bear his own embarrassment, the child escapes from the living room with the speed of a bullet as soon as I accept the unexpected gift. Slaine disappears behind his son, nervously looking at me over his shoulder. And for a long time I simply can’t understand what I’m holding in my hands is. Until I look out of the window, where thousands of miniature copies of my absurd present are falling down. Unthinking, I get up, go back to the bedroom and freeze near the window.

This ugly cut, awkwardly glued, poorly colored orange snowflake looks completely out of place amidst my faceless bedroom, where each thing knows its place, where the bed is tucked so that the blanket doesn’t have a single wrinkle, where only the unsorted work papers have the right to be in a slight mess. But I leave it to shine on the windowsill and falter in the middle of emptiness, suddenly not knowing what to do next. Should I turn on a laptop? Or lie down to take a nap? Or maybe check the completed work one more time?

No, it’s useless. I can’t look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I seem to manage to update only once a month, the time completely escapes me. I just want you to know that I'm finishing this regardless of anything, so please bear with the waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

For the last time I push myself between omega’s buttocks and still, feeling how slowly the knot swells inside, extending the wave of the blinding orgasm taking over my body. Slaine rests his elbows against the bed, panting. Cold sweat appears on his back, and though he hides his face from me, I’ve seen how awfully bitten his lips are. The knotting can go on for more than a half of an hour, and an unaroused omega usually experiences severe pain. Yet Slaine never once complains or asks for a respite while the long night of coupling lasts. 

I'm laying us down on the bed, holding Slaine’s hips, and carefully pulling up the blanket. The snowy February keeps causing the drafts that constantly roam the apartment. Ray has been sneezing for three weeks, stubbornly balancing on the edge of surrendering to the cold. I’m meeting Slaine in the evenings more often now when he wanders into the kitchen in search of the jar of honey he had bought. Every time he sees me working on the laptop at the table he looks lost and oozes away. I do not really understand why I've situated myself near the refrigerator instead of the comfortably furnished study that is always at my disposal

Slaine breathes out, his lips holding back the painful moan. The omega has no more strength even to push my hands away when I start to caress his tense abdomen and trembling thighs with a soothing touch. The fifth knotting over a single night. This could have been avoided if only I had taken the suppressants in time. I never fail to get the drugs when I feel the heat approaching, but somehow I was too late to realize my miscalculation this time. At least I had enough sense to buy the special condoms on the way home. Also, if I remember correctly, a mild pain reliever is a part of the lubricant. I should check the information leaflet later.

The bedroom is very quiet aside from Slaine’s irregular breathing and the sheets’ rustle. This time I don't leave the light on, the thoughts of my mistake are still too fresh. That's probably why I notice that omega's face is wet from the tears only when I reach for the falling pillow, and my hand accidentally brushes his cheek. I understand that he is in pain, but is it really so intense?

The mating ends. I'm relieved to feel that my body is satisfied enough to no longer torment me with almost uncontrollable arousal. I dispose of the condom and leave to take a shower, allowing the omega to gather his strength and escape from my bedroom. I even give him more time by making a detour towards the kitchen where I quench my thirst with a glass of water.

When I get back to the room I definitely don’t expect to find out that Slaine hasn’t moved an inch from the bed. He is asleep, having pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped up in a blanket like in a cocoon. I’ve seen Ray likes to do the same when he sometimes falls asleep in the living room during the day if the cartoon turns out to be boring. Of course, I’m sure that Slaine doesn’t wish to share the bed with me, but carrying him, smelling of my scent and of sex, to the bedroom, where his child rests, is unacceptable. Waking the omega up is debatable too, as the blame of his fatigue lies with me. The most logical solution would be for me to spend the night in the living room, but I surprise myself by lying down on the bed and covering myself with the edge of the blanket instead of retreating from the room.

Sleep doesn’t come. Or rather... my mind refuses to surrender to it for good, and through the daze of drowsiness I keep contemplating some of the important work issues. In this state, when absolutely nothing distracts me from thinking, I’m capable of finding the numerous solutions to seemingly impossible tasks. Like that project about installing the additional transmitters to the defense satellites...

I am pulled out from the tangle of the precise calculations and imaginary charts with a jerk. I don't know what dreams Slaine sees and what makes him move towards me so close that his hair are suddenly tickling my chin, but his even breathing burns my collarbone, and my thoughts quickly scatter like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Slaine’s feet are cold, and sometimes he shudders, and then moves even closer as if searching for safety - from something he must be dreaming about.

I have never shared my bed with anyone. Whores were always leaving immediately after receiving the money. And I had no desire to linger in the cities and settlements, which were scheduled to be destroyed by the ‘Gulls,’ it wasn’t wise. More so it was rare for me to get to the bed there, in most cases everything took place at the doorstep. Only the vague memories of Yuki, sneaking to my bed in the middle of the night to pat my hair, thinking she’d stay unnoticed, come to mind.

I can’t figure out where I should put my arm. Should I just leave it lying along my body? Or try to embrace the pale shoulder, peeking out from under the cover? I doubt that Slaine really wants this unexpected intimacy. I bet he is going to jump as soon as he opens his eyes. The omega’s pleasant scent predictably fills my nose; it reminds me of summer, of field grass and wet foliage and, just a bit, of those rich apples Yuki had a habit of stuffing me with at the end of August. I’ve heard that each omega has an individual scent, and that alphas perceive them differently, but this is actually the first time I ever acknowledge the omega’s smell.

While still trying to decide where I should rest my hand, apparently I fall asleep since I recover consciousness only when the dawn already arrives. The body is overwhelmed by an unusual sluggishness, and I’m thankful today is the day off. Most likely the feeling is a result of the night activities, because otherwise my brain would’ve been alerted instantly and my body would’ve obeyed me perfectly even after the heaviest physical stress. I’ve gotten used to the abrupt awakening during the war. But right now I merely want to stretch, yet something obviously prevents me from doing so.

The tips of Slaine’s fingers gently touch my chest, and omega is nuzzling my collarbone. His lips open slightly to let out a sleepy mumble. A warm knee brushes my thigh. It seems that during the night Slaine warms up by huddling against me. I watch as his eyelashes tremble as his eyelids slowly move up. Confused, he stares at his hands lying on my chest, and blinks, trying to get his bearings. A second passes, then two.

I’d say everything that happens afterwards can easily become a good script for a comedy show. I wasn’t mistaken to expect Slaine to back away from me as fast as possible. But he definitely doesn’t take into account the size of my bed and lands on the floor with a loud scream, somehow managing to completely draw away the blanket and leave me lying amidst my bed in all my naked glory. Slaine hisses, pats his lower back, and then crawls on all fours away, desperately trying to stand up on his weak legs. When he succeeds, he rushes towards the door with my blanket, forgetting about his bathrobe. Two minutes later omega returns to exchange the blanket for the robe, not quite successfully hiding his blushing face behind his messed up hair. He refuses to look at me - clearly, my nudity embarrasses him. 

I do not smile. I have long since forgotten how to smile, but suddenly I don’t want to think about the work I fetched home at all, like I did at night. While Slaine is busy showering, I get dressed and go to the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast. Since his recovery Slaine doesn’t give me a chance to cook; even in my rare weekends he gets up early to prepare food before I wake up. I believe he is still worried about the money I spent for his pills.

While the bacon and eggs are being tortured in the frying pan, Ray appears in the kitchen; his pajama is slipping off his left shoulder. He politely wishes me a good morning and sits at the table, turning his curious nose towards the stove. Two minutes later however I notice a thoughtful wrinkle on his forehead. He is certainly pondering about something, while I put plates on the table and rummage in the dryer in search of the table-ware. The sleepy face eventually shines in understanding. Smiling, Ray begins to kick up his feet, and absolutely innocently, as all children do, asks:

“Kaizuka-san smells like Dad. Kaizuka-san loves Dad?”

The sound of a cup shattering against the floor comes from the direction of the doorway. Slaine’s face is a strange mix of paleness and brilliant poppy color. But this time the broken fragments become his salvation; Ray immediately forgets the voiced question, because the shattered cup is his favorite cup which has a drawing of a popular cartoon hero. Stuttering, Slaine promises his son to buy a new one and carefully collects the broken pieces. For a moment I catch the omega’s accusing stare, but Slaine abruptly turns away, as if recalling where he is.

There is no mystery in how Ray is able to smell his father’s scent on me - Slaine kept snuggling up to me for the rest of the night. The unexpected slip up though is probably once again my fault, but how could I have foreseen it if I’ve never before shared my bed with anyone? I turn off the heat on the stove and head for the shower so that the child won’t have any chance to repeat his tricky question. As far as I know the ‘love’ between adults is usually presumed to be a form of the symbiotic attachment with an addition of a physical attraction or without it. But that terminology is too complex for the child's mind; furthermore any kind of affection between me and Slaine is out of the question. I halt the insignificant train of thoughts and step under the shower.

Days, filled with work, pass slowly and uneventfully. From time to time I receive messages from former colleagues, invitations to different meetings and gatherings, but I don’t feel any interest. Winter finally ends, allowing the spring to flood the roads with deep puddles. On one of the ordinary Thursdays I take off a thin leather strap from the set of keys and put its end through the empty center of the orange snowflake. I still stare at the Ray’s present often so I replace the car air freshener with it. There is entirely no logic in my action, but something inside of me calms down since the day the orange snowflake starts accompanying me to work.

At the end of April and conclusion of a large project, I start coming home earlier and regularly meeting Slaine and Ray at the building entrance, when they return from the daily walk in the nearby playground. Slaine always waits until I carefully park the car and lets me go inside first, no doubt thinking that fleeing is too cowardly for a move. One day he notices the presence of the snowflakes decorating the interior of the car, and then our glances lock for so long that Ray has to pull at his father's arm to get his attention. 

The heat mercilessly storms the city in July, and I'm glad that I’ve installed air conditioners in the apartment. I can’t say the same about my workplace though, where I spend most of my time. After sitting for infinite hours in a stuffy office my shirt becomes wet from sweat, and I’m forced to take a change of clothes. The heat noticeably drives even the toughest people mad. My phone is constantly vibrating from Calm’s calls; it seems like the alpha is determined to gather our former squad for a party. I don't find surprising that a lot of military comrades have settled in the same city - many had lost their families and homes since the beginning of the war, so when they were filling out the applications for receiving the residential space there were few people who mentioned their old addresses. 

On Saturday evening, before the weekend begins, the new manager, responsible for dealing with the project of developing the compact security systems for the relocatable bases, delays the entire staff in the conference hall until late. It is utterly irresponsible of him to not be aware of things he wants to clarify at this stage of the project, even if he wasn’t expecting the appointment to the new position. Colleagues groan, finally leaving the hall in a rapid manner; it’s already dark outside. I think I’ll have to abandon the plans to stop by the shopping mall to buy Slaine a cellphone. A week ago there was a fire in the neighboring building, and the thought that Slaine won’t be able to contact me in case of emergency, had firmly got into my head.

The highway is empty at this late hour. The powerful low beams light up the crooked trunks of the trees. The moonless sky is looming over the road ahead. There is an unfamiliar car, parked at the entrance of the apartment building; its right side is a bit crushed. The sudden uneasiness urges me to find the keys inside the briefcase and to go fast up the stairs. Up to this moment I had yet to notice if any of the neighbors were visited by guests with such an unsightly car. Of course, there is a possibility that the omega, residing on the third floor, had at last found his husband or decided to start a new life and acquired a new partner, but... after seeing the door of my own apartment ajar, I still and quietly leave my briefcase near the wall.

My mind becomes empty. Eyes quickly roam the hall, bathed in the electric light. Slaine’s bedroom is locked, and I can hear how frantically the child’s fists are banging on the door. I walk past the bedroom. If Ray has enough strength to move around, then he is all right. I can check on him later. I'm entirely composed, even my heartbeat slows down. War teaches you a lot. However, what I see happening in the kitchen almost makes me lose my composure. In the middle of the empty space between the refrigerator and the table I find Calm, and his face looks smashed. Slaine’s tee-shirt is torn, his bare feet desperately beat against the floor, his nails are violently sinking into Calm’s hands, wrapped around his neck. But the saliva is already dribbling down his open lips and chin, and Slaine's eyes are ready to roll back.

“Ahh, Cap'n, didn't know you like your omegas so stroppy.” Calm laughs drunkenly, seated on Slaine’s thighs, and not even thinking of loosening his grip. “I thought I’d have one go while waiting for you, but when I cornered him he punched me! Can you fucking believe it? If I were a civilian he’d have knocked me down, but it’s no big deal, we’ve had fun with lots of wild hotties, right?”

Two seconds are enough to seize the alpha and to smash his face against table. Calm collapses fast since he is not waiting for the attack. I do not regret using the additional force. Trespassing into and touching someone's property are severely punishable after the war. The drunkenness won’t be considered as an extenuating circumstance. At the very least Calm is going to face deportation and many years of penal labor. The war had affected many cities, and now the reconstructions all over the country are in dire need of the manpower. In any case, dialing the number of the local law enforcement, I am positive I won’t meet the alpha ever again. If I knew something like this would happen in the future, I wouldn't have saved Calm’s life long ago on the battlefield, but back then he had successfully proved himself as an outstanding technical expert and I had come to the conclusion that losing a useful combatant is simply unreasonable.

Slaine crawls to the opposite side of the kitchen and keeps coughing and gasping for air. I’d rather stay with him and discern how serious the asphyxia was, but the first thing I should do is calm the child. Ray is sitting on his children rug, hugging his knees and hiding his face. The sound of the door opening startles him, but he rushes forward and clings to my pants as soon as he sees me, unsuccessfully trying to utter some words - he can’t control his voice. I gently seat the little omega on the bed, tell him that Slaine is all right and promise to bring his father in a few minutes. Wiping his tears from his cheeks, Ray agrees to wait for us in the bedroom. His knees are visibly trembling from the stressful experience. I take the folded blanket from the headboard and put it around Ray’s shoulders, then hurry back to the kitchen.

Still heavily breathing, Slaine pushes away my hands again and again, despite the fact that he is shaking so much. I just want to examine his neck; surely, dark hand prints will soon appear on his skin. But Slaine, wheezing, draws back from my touch as if it wasn’t Calm who attacked him, but me. In the end, I can wait no longer and decide to use force, but the moment I touch his shoulders Slaine suddenly sobs and clings to me so tightly that I can’t breathe. Omega’s fingers clutch the back of my shirt, and he burrows his nose into my shoulder, trying to hold back the tears. I can feel his strong heartbeat under the fabric of his torn garment.

I’ve never hugged anyone except Yuki. If I had to calm someone down on the battlefield, I slapped people or called for a medic to inject a sedative in case of urgency, but right now these options seem inappropriate. Slowly, as if under a spell, I watch as my own hands lock behind the omega.

“Please- I’m so- so sorry. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not again, please,” Slaine whispers, barely coherent, and keeps rumpling my shirt while I hold him in my arms. He calms down immediately though, when a loud and searching “Daddy?” rings over the silence of the kitchen suffocating in the semi-darkness. A minute later Slaine pulls himself together and, leaning onto my shoulder, reaches the bedroom, passing the baton of crying to his scared son.

It is later, when all the testimonies are given, when Calm, having only just woken up and still not thinking clearly, is finally taken away, when the door closes, bidding the police farewell, and Ray wearily falls asleep, his tiny face buried under the blanket, Slaine, supporting himself on the wall, finds me in my study.

“I apologize for my hasty actions. I shouldn't have refused your friend. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

“What do you mean?” I do not understand what Slaine wants to say. He was defending himself, and that is completely logical. Omega makes a long pause, fiddling with the scarf he had covered his neck with after the police’s departure. I guess he won’t remove it for a few days in fear of scaring Ray with the dark bruises.

“You have done a lot for my son. Much-much more than what I dared to hope for. I had no right to give you so many troubles. I apologize for tonight. It won't happen again.” Slaine takes a deep breath and then bows to me. “Please, let me stay with my son until he becomes independent. This is all I ask for. When I become useless, you can get rid of me in any way you want.”

Slaine doesn’t wait for my reply. Probably thinks that he has no right to ask anything of me, or maybe just doesn't want to hear something he is afraid of. But even if he would’ve attempted to demand the answer, I’d remain silent. Because I have no words for him. ‘Useless’? Then what does it mean to be useful? In the past Yuki needed my presence, but that is understandable since we were blood-related. Ray, yes, Ray needs Slaine - after all, there is no better person than his father to teach him about life. As for my own part... I suppose I was useful during the war, but now...?

For a long time I stare at my reflection in the mirror, smooth back a couple of unruly strands of hair, then take a shower, go to bed and wake up in the morning feeling as if I’m on autopilot. Outside, the long-awaited rain is chasing away the lingering heat. I open the window, breathe in fresh air, but there is just one word reigning over my thoughts.

‘Useless.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, but I was caught up in the Inasure fanbook frenzy, lol. It's 5 a.m, I have to get up to work soon, but I wanted to make at least something for Slaine's birthday.  
> I'll try to update sooner now. Thank you for waiting. And thank you, my wonderful hakumei_hogosha for beta-ing this chapter (all the rest mistakes are mine).


	5. Chapter 5

The rain outside is so heavy that I manage to get drenched while crossing the short distance that separates the parking lot from the apartment building. Droplets of water feel cold as they roll down from my wet hair onto my face. My overcoat gets soaked through; I let it fall from my shoulders and arrange it on its rightful place next to the small bright-red hooded jacket. There is a smear lurking on the jacket’s hood, and the hood itself is crumpled. For some reason I can’t suppress the urge to straighten it.

“I like Kaizuka-san’s smell!” I can hear Ray’s muffled voice coming from the direction of the kitchen and freeze in the middle of the hall after taking only one shoe off. 

“Mmm, and what does he smell like?” Slaine asks absent-mindedly; the dishes loudly rattle in the sink. I remove my second shoe and roll the sweater sleeve up to glance at my wristwatch. It seems like I’ve returned an hour earlier than I had planned.

“Like oranges!” The child sounds very proud as if he’s just made a new scientific discovery. I glance at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve never contemplated how omegas perceive my scent. Yuki was a beta, like all women are, and betas’ sense of smell isn’t as acute due to their nature. Betas remain aloof of all the alphas’ and omegas’ behavior fueled by the scents since their birth, although my sister still loved to nuzzle and snuffle my hair every time I’d finish bathing.

“You’re the only orange here, baby,” Slaine chuckles. The sound of the running water dies down. “Finish your mac; it’s almost time for bed.”

I quietly walk to my study; I don’t want to disturb omegas from their dinner. Slaine always hurries his son if he notices my arrival even though I never ask them to vacate the kitchen. Ray rarely minds my presence but Slaine needs a different approach. I prefer to distance myself from him after what happened back in July. The bruises are gone from his neck, yet he still nervously looks around every time he walks down the hall. His worry is easy to notice; I've been watching him.

I’m not an expert in psychology, but I think the words Slaine said to me after the accident aren’t one hundred percent true. It definitely required a lot of inner strength to voice them, but I fear his mind will break if I force him to have sex with another alpha. Of course, there is no reason to make him do so, but I wonder how he’ll react now to us having sex. It’s a good thing that my next rutting period is still awhile away.

I make myself comfortable in the study and successfully chase away all thoughts by doing work on my laptop; I even forget about eating. The department never lacks projects during the autumn, and I always have assignments since I’m considered one of the best employees at the research center. Though, to be honest, the higher-ups can replace me anytime if they feel like it. I don’t think Hakkinen’s patronage is going to last longer than a few years. The moment he retires the new executive staff will actively promote their own people to the department. However, by that time I hope to have saved up enough money. I can’t really complain about my current salary.

Sometime later I hear a suspicious noise from behind the closed door. I look away from the monitor, get up and peek out into the hall. After the accident with Calm I prefer to be careful: who’d have thought that he’d trick one of our former military comrades to give away my address. Ray should already be asleep, and Slaine never makes noise at night. It’s better to check the situation.

I find Slaine only because I notice the belt of his unsightly bathrobe undone and lying behind the hall stand. Slaine is on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs pulled close to his chest; the panting escapes through his gritted teeth. He frantically tries to smooth back the hair stuck to his damp forehead with trembling hands. For a second I think he is sick but when I get closer his peculiar enhanced scent immediately fills my nose. Without a doubt, the omega is in heat.

“The suppressants?” As much as I want to please the suddenly interested part of my body I help Slaine to get to his feet and lead him to my bedroom. It’s too cold in the hall; the heating only turns on at the end of October, and I don’t want him to fall ill like last year.

“I... I forgot.” This is the first time I hear such contempt in his voice directed at himself. “I forgot to buy them.”

Slaine pushes his hips into mine while I try to seat him on the bed, and this action is so unlike him that I force myself to take a step back. His turquoise eyes look confused as his body craves for me for the first time. I haven’t ever slept with an omega in heat, but I’ve heard that it’s an unimaginable pleasure for alphas. Burning from the heat of the arousal, omegas become docile, obedient and lascivious as never before. I can do anything I want with him, and Slaine will not resist, more so, the pleading to go on won’t stop until morning.

I can’t deny that the thought excites me even more. A hot wave overcomes my body and concentrates in my groin. The sweater collar feels choking; the swarm of sudden questions buzzes in my mind and hinders my breathing. I wonder if Slaine is going to say my name? Will he moan loudly? Will he embrace my hips with his legs? How many times will he come if I touch him? Suddenly I want to trace my fingers along of the lines of his pale scars, to bury my hand in the curls of his sunny hair, to press my lips to his neck that has been covered with the ugly marks of the other’s hands for so-so long. Because... because I just want it? I’ve never tried anything like this.

…Do I smell like oranges to him right now?

I take a step forward but the fear in Slaine’s eyes cuts through the veil of lust and makes me sober. With an effort I wrest out of the unknown vortex of feelings that was able to devour my mind in sheer seconds. I forgot. I’m unneeded, useless. He doesn’t need me. It’s just nature, instincts.

I dash out of the house like I’m being chased by an enemy force, so confused I forget to take an umbrella. The omega behind the apothecary’s counter looks at me reproachfully as droplets of water fall from my unbuttoned coat onto the mosaic floor. I put wordlessly a large package of the suppressants onto the counter. I feel lost. Even though I have never slept with the omegas in heat it’s not like I haven’t had chances to smell their scents. But I don’t remember my mind becoming so clouded. What is wrong with me?

When I return home I see Slaine still dressed in his crumpled bathrobe. He tosses on the bed, presses his hips into the sheets and doesn’t hold back the long moans. I put the recommended dose of the pills into a glass of water and somehow force Slaine to empty it to the bottom. Then I lock myself in my study. The product label says the omega should fall asleep in ten or fifteen minutes after the usage and won’t wake up until morning. I try to focus on my work again, but it’s useless. The desire leaves my body only after a couple of hours. I fall asleep on my desk, head pressed into my elbows.

In the morning the ruthless pain is gathering inside my head. Slaine waits for me in the kitchen with his hip against the table and hiding his fingers in the sleeves of the large red sweater. Why does he always buy clothes in the second-hand stores? I don’t know why the thought suddenly makes me a bit irritated. I walk past the omega and fill the coffee-maker with water. I’m not late to work yet, but I really should hurry. The rain is still heavy outside; I won’t be able to drive fast on the highway.

“Why?” Slaine asks and although I do guess what he wants to know I stay silent. I’m silent while I’m drinking coffee under his sharp look. I’m silent while I change into a fresh shirt and pants and Slaine is hovering at the bedroom door. I’m silent while I arrange the papers in my briefcase and put on my shoes. I’m silent when he suddenly grabs me by the coat collar and stops me at the doorstep. Perhaps this is the most defiant act of his since the moment we arrived at this apartment.

“Why are you always silent?” There is no irritation, no anger, no complaining, just a genuine lack of understanding in his quiet voice. But I turn my back to him and close the front door. What answer can I give him? That I want to know if I smell like oranges to him? What a stupid and pointless question. The car roars when I stir it out to the maze of the cozy streets faster than I should. The orange snowflake keeps annoyingly bumping against the windscreen, it gets on my nerves. After slowing down at the traffic light I find a new home for it in the glove box.

At work everything goes wrong. I forget to charge the laptop and find out that I’ve left the charger at home. My pencil breaks and tears the thin paper while I’m trying to draw an initial scheme of the machine for a new project. When I sit down to sign the reports the ink spills on my fingers and I spend a long time in the restroom trying to scrub it off. And while I’m not at my desk a coworker accidentally spills his coffee on my reports. By the end of the day I am infinitely glad to leave the office.

But that doesn’t mean I’m glad to be back at home. After putting Ray to bed Slaine comes to my room dressed in the same grey bathrobe that he wears each time when there is sex between us as if my smell or touch may forever dirty his other clothes. Nevertheless, why is he here? Is he ruled by the fierce desire to pay me back for the restraint I showed yesterday? Well, if it’s his wish... after all, an alpha isn’t supposed to refuse the bedroom games, right? My fingers firmly grab his shoulder as I push the omega towards the bed, not bothering to close the door.

Slaine certainly hurts his knee over the bed’s edge but makes no sound. He buries his face into the sheets and stills obediently when I pull up his bathrobe. He doesn’t move and looks like the game that has already been caught in the jaws of the predator, too tired to manage any sort of resistance. I undo my pants, press my groin against his buttocks and hold his hips so tight there may be bruises afterwards. It feels like an eternity passes while I look at the tips of his hair curling on his neck right where my bite mark stands out as a bright and undeniable spot.

There is nothing in Slaine’s voice besides the hints of fatigue. An absolute indifference.

“Please, close the door. Ray shouldn’t see this.”

No. No. I don’t want to look at his hunched back. I don’t want his fingers to search desperately for the support in the folds of the bed linen. I don't want to hear how the painful thrusts inside him will force him to moan but not from pleasure. I don't want this. Instead, I press my lips to my bite mark and kiss it, keep kissing endlessly the scar that is destined to never fade. Slaine’s body stiffens predictably under me, the quiet sigh escapes from his lips, and I feel goose bumps tingling down my spine. And then Slaine just runs away disentangling himself from my weak grasp and hitting his shoulder against the door jamb. I am left in the bedroom alone and I cannot understand what I’ve done a minute ago.

During the night the rain hauls in its horns a bit, but the heavy drops keep persistently attacking the windshield even after I head home from work. Sprays of water are jumping from under the car wheels. The grey sky looms menacingly over the empty road, over the withered fields and the trees burning with the autumn fever. The trees stretch along the road in the neatly planted rows. I can’t say I’m driving too fast. The speed I allow myself is quite low for the emptied highway. It’s just that that foolish, white spot suddenly appears out of nowhere and blocks the way so that even the brakes pushed home do not save it.

A cat. White and fluffy. What is it even doing here, amidst the emptiness of the untended fields?

I step out of the car already realizing what I’m going to see. I rest my elbows against the bonnet and rub my face feeling how the cold raindrops reach ungently under my clothes. I’ve rarely shot at the civilians. I’m not a murderer. I am a soldier. I... right where the beautiful white wet fur should be is a bloody mangle of meat and bones.

I pull my white shirt out from under the sweater. During the war I’ve never cared about the dead bodies. It was not my job. But the war has ended. I shouldn’t leave the cat lying on the road; I shouldn’t leave it to be tortured by the other cars. I find out a small shovel inside the trunk, cover the dead cat with my shirt and carry it into the field seeing how quickly the snow-white fabric gets soaked with the blood. It burns my fingers almost unbearably; I stop looking down. I don’t memorize the place I bury it. I don’t feel anything except the cold rain. I don’t remember how I get home. I just want to see Slaine, but he hides stubbornly from me behind the reliable barrier of his bedroom door.

And at night the nightmares соme.

_My first victim is hardly a year older than me. The gun is ready to fall from his shaking hands. It seems like the green frightened eyes are trying to look into my very soul begging me not to shoot so that we both can walk out in one piece. I kick the gun out of his hands and stab his belly with a knife not wasting time over the useless doubts. The knife goes deep. Up to the hilt._

I open my eyes and barely have time to get to the bathroom. I feel sick.

_The orange snowflake is swinging back and forth like a pendulum right where I took it off from. My eyes are glued to it, and I do not notice how instead of a cat a child jumps under the wheels of the car. It is Ray. When I open the door to look at his broken body he lies motionless staring glassy-eyed at the orange sunset sky._

This time I only manage to move my hand to my mouth. I throw up in the middle of the bed. I pull my phone closer and send the message that I’m taking a sick leave. I don’t get out of the shower until it is dawn. Afterwards I lock myself in the bedroom.

_Slaine is beneath me, soft and quiet. I push him into the mattress twisting his hands, pull at his hair letting all my arousal right inside his body. And I don’t care if he gets knocked up. I roll him onto his back, rub my nose against the bite mark and - freeze. There is no pulse on his neck. The putrid blue cheeks are turning black under my touch. The cold smile of a dead man is yawning with a hole of a toothless mouth; the gnats are swarming inside._

I turn on the cold water and step right under it in my clothes as soon as I crawl away from the toilet on my weak feet. I can hear how Slaine - alive - stops hesitantly behind the closed bathroom door but soon his quiet footsteps fade away. I realize that I haven’t eaten for three days, but instead of eating I gulp down the pills that can temporarily relieve me from the need of sleep. I have some pills left since the war. I’m not asleep. Not asleep.

_After a small victory the senior officers drag a captive girl-beta to the barracks. I’m eighteen, I’m on the suppressants, but I’m into my rutting period. I watch as alphas are gathering above the delicate body. Someone smacks me on the shoulder offering to get in line. I do so. There are many soldiers, they aren’t in a hurry. Almost all of them are satisfied when my turn to use the beta comes. I unbutton my pants, get between her legs and thrust inside. Long dark strands of her hair cover her deathly pale face. I reach to remove them. Sprawled under my body, indifferent to the movements of my hips Yuki is silently crying looking somewhere to the side._

I throw up saliva and bile. I have no strength left to move or to get under the shower. I can feel the iciness of the wall behind my back and how the remnants of the vomit slip down my chin but I don’t care. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe.

The door claps barely audibly. Someone wipes my face with a wet towel. Warm fingers find their way into my clotted hair, pat the back of my head and my temples. The cold wall is replaced by a warm body. Someone’s breath burns my neck. I’m not alone. I close my eyes.

“It’s alright; everything is over. It’s over,” Slaine soothes me probably the way he’d soothe Ray.

I let my head rest against his shoulder. And whisper her name until my voice becomes hoarse.

Yuki. Yuki, I’m so sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear if anyone is wondering: that was just a nightmare, the situation took place but it wasn't Yuki.  
> I apologize for the rare updates but I haven't had any energy ever since winter. The last two updates will come but this time I won't promise it'll be fast.  
> Thank you for staying with this story if anyone is still here.  
> Also, thank you, the wonderful [hakumei_hogosha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hakumei_hogosha/profile) for looking through the chapter and doing a bit of beta-ing!


	6. Chapter 6

The wall of fire is getting closer and closer devouring people, but suddenly something touches my thigh, and I shake the delusion of the restless sleep away. The burning sunset peeks through the window with a promise of another round of autumn rain; the bright colors hurt my sore eyes. The calming rustling of the steps in the hall is muffled by the slippers. The bedclothes are changed and fresh. Ray is sprawled on my bed engrossed in piecing together a jigsaw puzzle; his leg is resting against my thigh.

The large puzzle pieces are scattered over a blanket in a colorful pile. The little palm slowly picks up one piece then another but cannot find the right part. The child puffs his cheeks from frustration, so I fish the needed piece out of the pile and put it to its rightful place. Ray’s face lights up with joy and then he jumps up realizing that I’ve woken up.

“Kaizuka-san!” Ray crawls closer, leans conspiratorially towards my ear and, apparently, spills what he considers to be the vital information. “Dad is making dinner, and I’m staying with Kaizuka-san so that Dad doesn’t worry. But it’s a secret.”

Secrets exist to be kept. During the war such an act could result in death and public execution, but I look at Ray’s happy face and just close my eyes, breathing in the fresh air; the bedroom is nicely aired.

“Do you know, when I have bad dreams Dad does this!” With all the sincerity only a child can have Ray puts his arms around my neck and puffs above my ear with an air of importance. I let my hand rest on his back and can’t understand why I suddenly feel like choking. However, the next moment the doorbell interrupts our unexpected contact.

“Ray, go back to your room for now,” Slaine’s voice rings firmly from the hallway. The confident steps reach the front door. Ray jumps off the bed and hastily collects the puzzle pieces into the empty box. He smiles at me, cheeks red, and finally runs out from the bedroom. Slaine appears immediately; the doctor is standing behind him. I recognize the familiar beta from last year.

Arranging himself on a chair, the man slowly measures my temperature and blood pressure, then takes out his stethoscope. Slaine leaves us alone when the whistling sound of the kettle comes from the kitchen. Today the omega is dressed in a white turtleneck and cozy pants-bell bottoms. A long unbuttoned cardigan falls down to his knees, and suddenly I feel a desire to slide my hands under it and press my forehead to Slaine’s belly.

“Well, at first glance, nothing serious. The nausea can be caused by fatigue and stress. I’ll prescribe a sedative, but I don’t think it’s good to rely on pills too much. Of course, if your health doesn’t improve in a couple of days, please, do not hesitate to visit a hospital. But in the meantime I advise you lots of bed rest. Try to relax and eat healthy food. And stop taking this poison!” The doctor nods in disgust in the direction of the pills resting on the edge of the drawer - the ones that I used to keep myself from falling asleep.

He has very sharp eyes. In fact, civilians are not supposed to have drugs like this; it may result in a long trial that would definitely not end in my favor. But the beta only puts his spectacles back in the case, closes his notebook, hides it along with his pen in his gripsack and stands up. I sink back against the pillow and straighten the undershirt; Slaine must have put it on me while I was unconscious.

“If I might add, Kaizuka-san… Just a remark based on my own experience.” The beta looks around the room, scrutinizing the empty space. The room has the basic furniture but no paintings, no decorations and no useless mementos. Only the forgotten piece of Ray’s puzzle is lying at the foot of the bed. “I think… surviving the war is not the most horrific thing. The most horrific thing is how to live after it. But I think you are on the right track. Please, have a good day.”

Slaine sees the doctor off. The overwhelming weakness reigns over my body; I am thirsty. As if reading my thoughts Slaine returns to the bedroom holding a tray with a carafe full of water and a steaming mug of broth. He sits next to the bed in case my hands are not strong enough to hold the mug, but during the war there were times I’ve felt worse. I manage to eat without help.

The last sunset rays slip into the room heralding the arrival of night. The sound of the TV and the child’s voice humming a song in the other room doesn’t disrupt the calming silence. Slaine closes his eyes; his relaxed arms lie over his knees palms up. It seems like he has dozed off. I reach out with my hand to trace my thumb against the barely visible line of life on one of his palms.

He doesn’t move his hand away but noticeably tenses. I plunge into the storm that lurks behind the deceptively calm sea of his eyes. I feel that I can’t be alone anymore. I know that if I close my eyes I will again see Yuki - sprawled, crucified. I don’t react to the omega’s silent question, right now I don’t feel like I can talk. Slaine hides his hands from me under the long sleeves of his cardigan. My fingers wander hopelessly through the empty air where a second ago Slaine’s warmth was present.

Slaine suddenly shivers, hugs his shoulders and looking at the darkening sky whispers,

“I’ll be there.”

And he comes to me. After doing the dishes and tucking Ray into bed he turns off the light in the hall and stops, holding another blanket, near my bed. He is in a plain t-shirt and shorts. Under the renewed sound of the rain pattering on the window he lies down onto the other half of the bed and turns his back to me after turning off the dim lamplight. I watch his silhouette in the dark, and slowly my eyelids slide shut.

The noise of gunfire and screams of dying people disturb the silence of the night, but the haze disappears as soon as my forehead presses against Slaine’s t-shirt right over his frantically beating heart. I rest against Slaine’s chest and use the moment to hug him and push my knee between his legs. The hand patting my hair stops, but I’m still pretty shaken after the nightmare, and Slaine allows me this shameless behavior. However, his revenge is quick to follow.

“Tell me about Yuki.”

I could stay silent. Or lie. But I open my mouth and tell Slaine all about losing my sister forever on an ordinary sunny day. I don’t have reasons to hide my story from him, especially after he’s been listening to my feverish apologies to my dead sister for half of the night. It was Slaine who led me back to bed, although I couldn’t remember that.

“When was the last time you’ve visited her grave?”

Yuki has no grave, and there couldn’t be one. Years later, our home city was completely swallowed by the wave of a deadly fire. Now there is nothing there but the wreckage of buildings and ashes. I have none of Yuki’s things, no photos and no postcards she liked to present me on holidays. She’d always put the pile of postcards onto the bookshelf where I used to keep my books. Perhaps, it was a wordless attempt to tell me to never dare to forget her after I grow up.

“You have the money. Bury her. What does it matter if you have her things and body or not? No one should be forgotten.” Slaine’s hand gently moves down my back. The omega is obviously deep in thought and he doesn’t notice what he’s doing. Then he quietly adds, “In the end, everyone needs a place where they can come to and cry their heart out.”

I fall silent. I’ve never thought about it. But I feel too tired to think about it now. I will definitely ponder over this suggestion, but later. Right now I feel like I have the right to satisfy my curiosity in return, and Slaine seems to understand it too. An unhappy sigh escapes from his lips as if he berates himself for opening his mouth. There are thousand questions in my head: Does he hate me? Does he hate my touch? Why is he helping me? Will he stay with me tomorrow night? Do I smell like oranges for him or not? But somehow, out of the whole variety of questions I choose this,

“What happened to Ray’s father?”

“Ray’s father?” In the pre-dawn light of the dark gray sky a bitter and tired smile crawls onto omega’s lips. “He has four fathers, Kaizuka. They dragged me to the basement where no one could hear my screams. I don’t remember their faces, and I’m infinitely thankful that Ray looks only like me. It was a miracle I survived. I spent three months alone in the hospital, not knowing what to do. And when I returned home with fresh scars and pregnant, the neighbors started calling me a whore behind my back. You see, Kaizuka, not all omegas are lucky to meet decent alphas. At least, I haven’t ever met one. Neither before the war nor during it, nor after... I only had them and... And you.”

I press my lips to the fabric of his t-shirt that hides his scars, and Slaine stops talking, clearly deciding against voicing any other words. We don’t talk anymore. I have long become warm in his embrace, but I don’t want to break the closeness of our bodies. I’m cozy and warm, as if I’ve returned home after a long, long journey. It seems like Slaine surrenders; he pushes the second blanket away. We fall asleep together.

In the morning I wake up to see Ray in his pajamas, lying between us on his belly and swinging his legs in the air. He smiles mysteriously because of something only he deems to know. Slaine gets up from the bed and jokingly spanks him on the bum, scolding the child for coming inside the adults’ room without knocking. Ray puffs his cheeks, climbs onto Slaine’s place, rests his rumpled mop on the crumpled pillow, dives under the blanket and takes a deep breath.

“Oranges!” The child’s declaration leaves no room for arguments.

I watch as Slaine’s cheeks become red and he flees to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Ray laughs, though I’m not sure what the reason for his joy is, but soon he calms down, starts yawning and rubs his eyes with his little fists. I suspect that he likes the smell of mine and Slaine’s scents mixed - the sheets became permeated with it - so much that it involuntarily creates a sense of security and lulls him.

Ray moves closer to me and quite predictably falls asleep a few minutes later. I look at him and a sudden “mine” wins over all other thoughts. The feeling is strange and unusual - just because of one simple word goosebumps hurriedly run down my back. It is true that I had put a bite mark on Ray’s shoulder and accepted him as my own child, but the reason for that was mostly the desire to avoid unnecessary questions and procedures at the border post. The mark itself is a relic of the times when instincts dominated the world, and also one of the ways to let the other alphas know where their boundaries lie when they come across an omega. The past that was ruled by bite marks and scents, for the most part, is long gone. Nowadays everything is controlled by paperwork, and the presence of the bite mark cannot really stop another alpha to engage in a sexual act with someone else’s omega.

The mark will also never be able to change the child’s scent, so why do I start thinking about Ray as my own child? Lost in my thoughts, I gently press my finger to the tip of the boy’s nose; he frowns in his sleep in an amusing way but doesn’t turn away. And, maybe, this is just my imagination but the corners of my mouth suddenly twitch in an attempt to form a smile.

In the end, the nightmares don’t stop completely, but Slaine’s presence helps a lot, and two weeks later I go back to work. However, now I have absolutely no desire to work overtime. Every day I try to finish things early or take the paperwork home. I work on it, sitting in the living room, and watch Ray who, if I am not mistaken, already considers the living room his territory. I don’t mind it; I like to take a pause from the dull technical texts and watch the games he comes up with. Ray is definitely a precocious child. Sometimes I notice Slaine glancing at me with caution, but when the frosty December lowers upon the city, and during the nights I’m still nestling against his back, the tension almost leaves his eyes. I even often find him looking at me surreptitiously.

Before the holidays I buy a Christmas tree. A real one. The one that Yuki always dreamed of, but we never could afford it because we had little money. When I drag it inside the hall Slaine, instead of helping me, freezes in the doorway like a statue and looks at me as if I’ve brought home a real monster. I look at the tree, look back at Slaine, and then again at the tree, trying to guess what I did wrong. Ray saves the situation - he appears from the kitchen and whoops with joy when he sees the tree. That evening for the first time all three of us make it out to the city to buy Christmas decorations. Ray, wearing a seat belt, sits on the back seat, his nose pressed against the side glass; he watches the decorated storefronts with an open mouth.

It’s not surprising that inside the shopping mall the little omega manages to swim in the tinsel and throw extra Christmas tree decorations into the cart. After that he wanders into the toy section where he tortures the shop assistant asking him to get a colored ball from the top shelf, then a giant sword and then a huge purple bat. The man, tired from the holiday hustle, almost has a nervous breakdown. Ray is, however, fascinated by the toy bat until Slaine forces him to give it back to the assistant; the price written on the tag hanging from its wing is too high. Looking at how Ray presses his cheek to the bat’s muzzle in frustration, but then obediently opens his little palms and returns it to the sighing assistant, I already know what the child is going to find under the tree on the Christmas morning. We spend a bit more time in the shopping center, but Ray, after being separated from the toy bat, isn’t as enthusiastic as before, and Slaine lures him to the car with the promised chocolate.

In the evening, having put all the tinsel and decorations, and also some strange paper ornaments that we had to buy because of Ray’s efforts to fill the cart (neither me, nor Slaine paid attention to it before reaching the cashier) we freeze in front of the Christmas tree, subtly trying to let each other start first on the decorating. And only half an hour later we find out that when it comes to decorating the Christmas trees both of us are beginners. I open my laptop hastily, and Slaine glancing through the articles and tips on using the decorations, tries to neatly wrap the colorful Christmas-tree set around the fir tree paws. Suddenly he hisses,

“That’s it, I can’t anymore! It prickles! Kaizuka, you’re the alpha among us, dammit! Deal with this monster!”

In the end I tame the fir tree beast in a way even Slaine likes it. Ray is incredibly happy to find the toy bat tied with a silver ribbon under the tree on Christmas morning. He runs with it around the apartment all day and doesn’t let go of it even once. His face shines with such delight that in the evening Slaine suddenly retreats to the kitchen to hide his tear-stained face from the child.

“I spent months saving money just to buy him in-season clothes. He never had toys like this,” he whispers hectically, wiping tears, but when I reach out with my hand to pat his hunched back Slaine recoils so abruptly that almost pushes the empty dish, standing on the edge, off the table. “N-no, don’t make me believe you.”

When we go to bed the omega in my embrace is tense and prickly just like the Christmas tree, but when he falls asleep, he still moves unconsciously closer to me. That night the nightmares creep quietly, I try to breathe again, and Slaine holds my hand until I feel pain. I manage to extricate myself from the whirlpool of the macabre visions where Ray dies in the flames of the fire. And though now I’m quite aware of the world around me, I just have to make sure that the child is all right. Under Slaine’s questioning look I stumble out of bed, wiping my forehead with my sweaty shirt.

Ray is sleeping soundly, his face pressed against the wing of the purple bat. The sweetie papers are scattered over the blanket; he must have secretly taken the candy after the dinner while Slaine was clearing the table. I close the bedroom door back and lean against the wall. The hall is drowning in the semi-darkness and I lower myself on the floor, looking at how the colorful reflections of the Christmas-tree set, turned on in the living room, dance on the ceiling. For some time Slaine stands motionless over me, but then I feel his palm gently touching my face.

“Inaho.” This is the first time Slaine says my name. “Inaho, everything is all right, let's go back to sleep.”

And I follow him.

Holidays pass by; the colleagues at work look utterly unfocused and sleepy. I too find it difficult to focus on an urgent project, so when lunchtime comes I’m one of the first to leave for the dining room. I pour myself a cup of refreshing coffee and sit at the window, vaguely listening to the chatter around and watching how gently the snowflakes descend onto the roof of the adjacent building. A colleague keeps complaining to his friends that he didn’t manage to give away all the kittens and that if he won’t find a home for them soon he will have to take them for euthanizing. At once I remember the white blur that jumped under the wheels of my car and, not quite realizing what I’m doing, approach the nearby table.

And so it turns out that on the second day after the holidays I bring home two more monsters. I stop in the hall in front Slaine who has walked from the living room to meet me, and watch his disbelieving face when he hears the loud meowing coming from the box I hold in my hands. And then for some reason I say,

“I ran over a cat. Back in autumn on the road home.”

Slaine observes me for some time, then puts away his cup of tea, comes closer and decisively opens the box with playful kittens. 

“You ran over a cat, but consider that today you gave life to two others.” The two future mischief-makers peek out of the box together in hope of having some milk. Slaine mutters with a heavy sigh, “Great, Kaizuka, now instead of two problems I’ll have to deal with four.”

I smile for the first time since Yuki’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my wonderful [hakumei_hogosha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hakumei_hogosha/profile) for looking through the text. ❤ And for luring me into the challenge to complete the last 800 words of this in 2,5 hours. You sneaky awesome cheater! Please, say thank you to hakumei-san, for otherwise this chapter would've probably been out one more month later or so.


	7. Chapter 7

Outside the dawn is breaking. The loud trills of the awakening birds scatter the silence. I roll onto my side and look at Slaine who is lying across the bed. A thin t-shirt has slipped off one shoulder during the night, having revealed the defenseless neck and a part of the tempting collarbone. I know that if I secretly press my lips to the exposed skin, the omega’s lips will let out a satisfied sigh and, just maybe, Slaine will move his head back a bit so that it’d be more convenient for me to continue to kiss him. I’ve done it a few times already despite the risk of being caught, but no amount of risk could stop me.

With every day Slaine’s scent makes me more and more dizzy. The scientific articles blame the spring that came late this year and advice alphas and omegas to take the special pills which subdue the libido. However, I don’t want to have sex as much as I want to simply touch Slaine’s warm body and kiss his old scars, just so that the both of us could feel good. Yet I’m afraid to ruin that wonderful peace that has settled between us since the winter holidays. Little Ray is happy. Slaine is happy that Ray is happy. And I’m merely glad that they both seem fine. I guess it’s only my problem that I want something more from what I have. Actually, I don’t think I deserve even a bit of what I have now.

Still, the desire to let my hands wander under Slaine’s crumpled t-shirt, to stroke his sharp hipbones, to kiss his tempting navel and the mole lurking under his knee is too strong. I can’t resist. Hovering over Slaine, I breathe in his scent, my nose touches his ear peeking out from under his tousled hair; I leave a path of kisses right where I can feel his beating pulse. Slaine’s breathing quickens, yet when I’m ready to back away one of his hands suddenly rises from the bed, finds its way under my shirt and, gently sliding up my chest, pauses over my heart.

“Are you going to escape again?” Slaine mumbles sleepily; there is a flash of challenge shining in his half-closed eyes, and it binds me with invisible chains. As if under a spell I lean down to his face.

“Am I allowed to stay?” I didn’t think it was possible for my voice to become hoarse in a matter of a single moment.

“We’ll see.” Slaine answers into my lips, and I erase the last millimeters of space separating us. How strange. It has been almost two years since our meeting, but it’s our first kiss. And none of us really knows how to kiss. Slaine’s knees hold my thighs when the weightless fluttering touch of our lips give way to the more heated and hungry exploring of each other’s mouths. Shivers run down my back; I succumb to the desire to embrace Slaine’s yielding body with my hands, and I can feel how his hands cling to my shirt.

All unwanted thoughts leave my head; now there is only the desire to touch the warm skin, to grip the still too thin hips, to feel how Slaine arches slightly his back, opening towards my greedy advance. I lose track of time, but when we finally detach from each other and I press my forehead against his, breathing in the much-needed air, Slaine looks lost.

“I… didn’t know it could be like this…”

“Me neither,” I admit, however, before I can proceed with more kissing, the kittens start scratching at the locked door; they have grown up a bit and now are usually starving in the morning. Slaine reluctantly gets out of the bed and spends some time searching for his slippers, then finally disappears in the hall under the whining meowing of the annoying beasts. Sometimes these pervasive cats require so much attention that I start feeling the echoes of the totally irrational jealousy, but then, looking at the way Ray is running with them around the apartment, I’m even thinking about acquiring a puppy. Although when I voice this proposal to Slaine, he throws a towel at me, saying that he doesn’t have ten hands to tend to the free zoo that I want to make out of the apartment.

Perhaps, no more than ten minutes pass. I’m still lying on the bed, thinking if I should get up or not since today is a day off, and the watch kindly tells me that it’s too early yet. Suddenly Slaine appears in the doorway, his face a mask of the mixed emotions I am not familiar with; the worry immediately sweeps my chest into a stifling snake embrace. Slaine closes the door and reaches the bed in two steps. I hardly manage to prop myself on my elbows, when Slaine crawls on top of my hips, and I fall back on the pillow.

“Come on, do it.” Slaine pulls my shirt over my head while I’m desperately trying to figure out what’s going on. “Let’s do it, Inaho. I want to.”

He hesitates only for a second before pressing his lips against my neck, and it is enough for the hot wave of desire to completely eliminate all my thoughts and doubts. I change our positions and let myself do everything I dreamed about for so long with his body. I touch him, I caress him, I help him to remove the shorts thwarting our plans, I watch as arousal paints his cheeks red while he is looking for support by holding onto my shoulders. Finally I unite our bodies with one smooth thrust, barely having remembered to find a condom in the drawer.

“Does it hurt?” The fear to hurt him moves at the edge of the consciousness like a pesky gnat.

“N-no, it feels good... good...” The thighs under my hands are burning with shivers; I’m consumed by this inconceivable shivering too. I thought I knew what sex is. I was wrong. I was so very wrong.

There is not enough air, not enough words, not enough touches to express all my gratitude for such an unexpected gift. Slaine buries his hand into my hair while I hurriedly trace the pale scars on his chest with kisses as I rock my hips. I want to repay him with gentleness - for his patience, with tenderness - for his forgiveness, with kisses - for his understanding. And God, as much as I want to, I can’t hold out long. But Slaine feels good with me. He feels good, and that is more than enough.

Later, when we are lying together, learning to breathe again, Slaine suddenly presses his cheek against my shoulder and whispers an apology:

“I’m sorry, you left your briefcase on the table, and I brushed it accidently with my elbow. I saw the papers.”

My palm, gathering the droplets of sweat on Slaine’s back, stills. I had forgotten I haven’t removed the documents from the briefcase after meeting with the lawyer. I was going to place them in the safe, but was distracted by Ray, and since then, apparently, kept carrying them there. Of course, I wasn’t planning to hide them from Slaine, just didn’t know how to approach him and tell him, didn’t want him to think that my decision obliges him to anything.

Two weeks ago I bequeathed everything to Ray - fortunately, the government is very supportive of the small children that were taken captive during the war. I suppose that this is partly due to the heavy losses among the civilians and the plans of improving the demographic situation in the country. Be it as it may, according to my will, in the event of my disappearance or death Slaine will be officially acknowledged as Ray’s guardian until the omega reaches the age of majority. Unfortunately, the law forbids me to accept Slaine as my husband, but I was able to find at least this small loophole in the law to ensure a secure future to the two people I don’t want see my life without anymore.

I am silent, but Slaine moves his leg against my thigh, closes his eyes that for the first time don’t bear even a shadow of mistrust, only the wonderful warmth, and says:

“Inaho, thank you.”

And in the evening we finally get out to visit the cemetery. The vertical marble tombstone with Yuki’s name looks very neat; the workers did a good job. Ray sits on a bench, curiously looking around and swinging his legs in the air. I wander, feeling a bit lost, along the carved fences and press my fingers to the fastenings of my unbuttoned coat while Slaine cuts the fresh flowers to set them in the narrow vase we bought specially for the visit.

People are slowly walking through the alleys; a lot of them seem vaguely similar to me. Under the burning sunset sky the gloomy and tired faces are everywhere; the modest echoes of the quiet weeping and bitter whispers spread over the space, and it seems like only the presence of the rare but loud children’s voices helps the world around not to collapse behind the line, behind which there will always reside the hell of the painful past.

“Oh, what a beautiful lady!” Before Slaine manages to distract the child, Ray points his finger somewhere to the side, adding a drop of the childish openness to the fight against the universal grief. I turn around, absent-mindedly follow his gaze and blink, forced to cover my eyes with my palm. The rays of the setting sun break through the blooming foliage of the trees and suddenly become too bright.

There, under the canopy of the trees, Yuki stands with a smile on her lips. She looks just the way I remember her on our last peaceful day: dressed in the snowy white blouse and a knee-length black skirt and a white scarf that she often liked to tie around her neck. The wayward wind gently plays with the tips of her long dark hair. As if in a daze I take a step forward, but suddenly Yuki nods her head, points behind my shoulder and puts her forefinger to her lips.

I turn back to look at Ray, but Ray is already looking the other way, staring with interest at the elderly beta leading two naughty boys down the next alley. And when my gaze quickly returns to the shelter of the trees, there’s nobody there. Only the scarlet rays of the sun descend towards the young grass sprouting from the ground.

The world fades behind the sunset colors, blurs before my eyes, all the smells and the sounds disappear; only my own trapped heart continues to beat fiercely against the ribcage.

“Dad, why is Inaho-san crying?” Ray’s confused voice is approaching; his little hands firmly hug my hips as though he wants to drive all the possible troubles away from me. “Inaho-san, don’t cry!”

“Cryin…? Oh… that’s because he is allowed to sometimes, Ray. Unlike you Inaho-san isn’t a crybaby.” Slaine’s steps are so soft I can barely hear them when he stops close to me. In addition to Ray’s warm hands Slaine’s arms come around my shoulders as he pulls me closer.

“Can I cry too?” Ray sniffs into my jeans.

“See, I told you you’re a crybaby!” Slaine mutters and I press my forehead against his shoulder, not trying to hold back tears anymore, and tightly hug my little family.

***

Surprisingly, having a billion of everyday opportunities to voice the question that had been tormenting me once, I remember about it only a couple of years later, on an ordinary autumn day, while we are waiting for Ray to finish his first day at school, standing under the large maple tree. Slaine snorts, then falls silent for a long time, thinking, and when I’m almost ready to give up he finally admits:

“For me... you smell like freedom, Inaho. Like an autumn field and wind carrying the smoke of the dying fires.”

“What about oranges?” Holding Slaine from behind, I move my hands over his already noticeable belly where our future little alpha is sleeping yet. Slaine smiles, rests his head on my shoulder, blinks at the sun and slowly frees a yellow maple leaf out of my hair. The wind joyfully picks its weightless form up and carefully moves it on top of the mass of the same colored leaves covering the lawn, closing with it a small visible piece of earth. As though finally finding the last missing piece of the puzzle.

“Oranges?” The crowd of children rushes from the school with joyous exclamations, and Slaine, entwining his fingers with mine, pulls me forward towards Ray whose face is shining with happiness. “Well, maybe, just a bit.”

Excited after his first day of studies after the long summer, Ray jumps into my arms, demanding to be seated onto my shoulders. I lift him up to where the endless sky is overflowing with blue, and birds are starting their long journey to the south.

I’m happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, Ray's name comes from RAYregalia, but that is an almost non-existant hint for him to become great in the future (if you ever wondered).  
> *sigh* This translation has tired me, and I'm not sure I'm going to do more translations in the future, but I will write in english, yup, since I still love Inasure as much as I did after I watched aldnoah and I just seem to have this strange love of writing in another language.  
> A HUGE THANK YOU TO HAKUMEI-SAN for all the beta-ing and kindly asking (challenging lol) me to update. I think without her I'd have been updating even longer...  
> Also a hearty thank you to everyone who has ever commented and followed the story. Comments are precious, idk about others but they help me to live.  
> Anyway, I'm done, end of speech!


End file.
